


All You Have To Do

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [327]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Time, M/M, Sexting, Stranger Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:49:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22543558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: A one night stand is a beautiful thing. That’s always been Loki’s motto.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Series: Mental Mimosa [327]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1012767
Comments: 12
Kudos: 118





	All You Have To Do

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick. 
> 
> Prompt from this [generator](https://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator).

A one night stand is a beautiful thing. That’s always been Loki’s motto. There are a million willing creatures in the Five Boroughs alone; why waste one’s time on inviting worship from just one? No matter how pretty his dick.

This is the problem, or how it starts: because of some dude who calls himself Thor (ha) and who possesses the most glorious cock.

They meet at a bar in Chelsea that Loki never should’ve been in in the first place. But he’d been at this work thing that had gotten too awful to bear and he’d practically bolted from the restaurant the second his boss turned her back and made haste to the closest place that sold beer.

Not that he drank beer on the regular, mind, but he got in a mood sometimes and there was plenty of top shelf at home. He just needed to build up a bit more of a buzz first, that was all; a bar like this was no place to chase oblivion, nor to chase cock, either. There’s something unpleasantly mediocre about the place.

Which is why big and blond stands out, maybe.

He’s flirting with a girl on his left and giving an eye to the guy on his right and neither of them seems the wiser. Loki likes his technique. 

He has shoulders like a linebacker and a face that puts the angels to shame, even in the shit light of the bar. He’s dressed like a banker and his collar’s open at his throat and somehow, Loki thinks, he’s got both of his neighbors convinced that he’s taking them home, them and only them.

Well, Loki decides, halfway through his second microbrew, that will not fucking do.

He leaves a twenty and ducks across the room and plucks firmly--just once, mind, but very firmly--on the blond guy’s neat, massive sleeve.

“Excuse me,” he says gravelly when that big head bobs around. “But I can’t help but notice that you’re about to make a tragic mistake.”

The guy’s eyes drift down his body and back. There’s a smirk there that Loki really, really likes. “Am I now? And what’s that?”

Loki stands up on his toes and says something like: “Why waste your evening taking one of them home when you could have me right here?”

Well, in the tiny, tragic bathroom with smoky mirrors and somebody’s idea of the good old days on the walls. The door is thin and the lock’s a bit dodgy, but as soon as Loki gets a look inside the guy’s trousers, the Fifth Division could storm in and he wouldn’t be able to care. Even before he’s fully hard, he’s gorgeous; even more so once Loki gets a hand around the shaft. 

“Oh,” he says over the pulse of some classic rock anthem, the pound of his greedy pulse, “you need that, huh?”

The blond guy chuckles. “Yeah,” he gruffs, his fingers hot in Loki’s hair, “almost as bad as you do.”

He blows the guy through some seriously straining latex and fuck, he’s missed the slap of balls on his chin. He’s missed the smell of a man here, the strain of big thighs, the way a man sounds when he’s close to losing his mind and why the hell has he denied himself this for so long? Women are fine, women are lovely; women are harder to decipher than men, and that was why he’d been stuck on pussy for months--women were more of a challenge, weren’t that? Any idiot with a closed fist or a wet mouth could get off a man, even one they’d only just met, one who’s named they didn’t know and had no interest in learning: the heat of his dick, the eager swell of his cock, that’s the only thing about this man Loki needs to know.

When he comes, the guy’s nails catch in Loki’s neck and he moans, this broken, pretty sound, the same noise he makes when Loki stands up to kiss him, the condom still stretched and full between them, the guy’s hips still jerking faintly, still giving it up.

But when Loki loses it, his pants around his ankles and his cock caught in one massive, talented fist, the guy fucking groans, no beauty to it, no bells, just pure unadulterated _want_ and that only makes Loki spunk the guy’s hand harder because dear fucking god, does he want.

“We should do this again,” the guy says, breathing heat against Loki’s cheek.

“Should we?” Loki says. “Hmm. I think not.”

***

And they wouldn’t have, if he’d had enough sense to delete the guy’s number. He should have. After all, the guy put himself in there as _Thor_. But Loki was weak and work was a nightmare and some nights, all he wanted was a tumbler of whiskey and a new pic of Thor’s cock.

He asks for the first one on a whim when he’s drunk and stupidly horny and gets an answer straight back.

 _In a meeting_. _Give me 20?_

It’s worth the wait.

Dark gray trousers this time and no underwear again, the dirty bastard, but rising from the parted zip, it’s even better than Loki remembers: long and fat and full--nice of Thor to do some work for him, eh?--with a wet pearl peeking out at the tip.

 _Yes,_ Loki types. _That’s very nice. Thank you._

_Mmm gonna play with it now, so thank you. I appreciate the inspiration._

Loki opens his legs and strokes himself ideally; he really should change out of his suit. _You still at work?_

_Yes_

_And you’re going to jerk one out right there in your office? Really?_

The response takes a minute.

_I’m going to come all over my desk thinking about fucking your sweet little mouth_

_Yeah right,_ Loki types back, because he does dumb shit when he’s turned on. _Pic or it didn’t happen_.

The wait’s a lot longer this time. Long enough for him to set down his drink and tug himself free and scroll back up to Thor’s pic and imagine what it would be like to have him bare, to trace the veins with his tongue, to taste him, to have Thor’s hand hard in his hair, to--

The phone chimes and he almost doesn’t look. He’s close. He’s right there already. But he does look, and dear fucking Christ.

 _See?_ Thor’s typed. _It went everywhere._

There are two pics: one of spunk-splattered mahogany, thick white ropes in stark relief against whiskey wood; and the second of Thor’s cock again, sated, cream on the tip and slipping down flushed foreskin, the blond hair around it now darkened and wet.

“Oh my god,” Loki says to no one in particular, his hips rising to meet his hand with eager glee. “Oh my god. Oh my god. _Fuck_.”

He gets come on his tie and on his shirt tails, the couch, but fuck, it feels too good, having those pictures of Thor in his head: Thor standing up in his fancy office, his fancy door closed, his fancy desk clean and gleaming beneath him until it isn’t, until Thor’s thinking about him and beating off harder and then shooting all over, all fucking over, and shit, he thinks, the pleasure reverberating in his bones, a headier trip than the whiskey: who’s gonna clean up that mess?

The phone chimes. _You just got off, didn’t you?_

Loki wipes his hands on his pants. It’s going to the dry cleaners, anyway. _Hell yes._

Three little bubbles, and then, almost innocently: _Pic_? 

_Not on your life_ , Loki types. He may use capital letters. _Never._

He can almost hear Thor chuckling, that’s how gone he is. How much of a sucker he is for good cock. _Well,_ Thor writes. _Lucky for you I’m more liberal about such things. All you have to do is ask._


End file.
